en's hair has turned grey, and their senses have
forsaken them, under such circumstances; for in truth darkness is as
hard to endure as if light were essential to our existence.

I thought that if I only had a light, I could have passed the time
without thinking it half so long. The darkness appeared to me to double
the duration of the hours, as though it was something physical and
substantial that clogged the wheels of my watch, and hindered the motion
of time itself. Amorphous darkness! I fancied it gave me pain--a pain
that light would at once have alleviated; and sometimes I felt as I had
once done before, when laid upon a sick couch counting over the long
drear hours of the night, and anxiously watching for the day. In this
way slowly, and far from pleasantly, did time pass on.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THE STORM.

More than a week had I spent under this tedious monotony of existence.
The only sound that reached my ears was the hoarse rushing of the waves
_above_ me. Above me--for I knew that I was far down amid their depths,
far below the surface of the sea. At long intervals only, I could
distinguish other noises, like a thumping upon the decks as if some
heavy object was being moved about, and no doubt such was the cause of
it. In calm weather I sometimes fancied I could hear the bell calling
the men upon their watches, but I was not sure of this. At all events,
the sound appeared so distant and indistinct, that I could not
positively say it was a bell; and if so, it was only during the calmest
weather I could hear it.

I speak of calm weather, for I knew perfectly when there were changes.
I could tell the breeze, the gale, the storm--when they commenced and
when they ended--just as well as if I had been upon deck. The rolling
of the ship, and the creaking of her timbers, were good indices as to
how the wind blew, or whether it was rough or mild weather. On the
sixth day--that is, the tenth from departure, but the sixth of my
register--we encountered a regular storm. It lasted for two days and a
night; and must have been a terribly severe one, as it shook the timbers
of the vessel as though it would have torn them asunder. At times I
really thought that the great ship was going to pieces; and the noises
made by huge boxes and casks striking and grinding against each other,
or knocking violently upon the sides and bulwarks of the ship itself,
was sufficiently terrible. At intervals, too; I cou